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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26725456">The Picture Says It All</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412'>Llama1412</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love Shack [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Art, Drawing, Families of Choice, Father-Daughter Relationship, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Spies &amp; Secret Agents</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:53:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26725456</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Iorveth had employed a spy that preferred not to speak, he'd signed up to receive reports in unusual ways - usually in the form of a drawing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iorveth &amp; Scoia'tael (The Witcher), Iorveth/Vernon Roche, Vernon Roche &amp; Adda the White</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love Shack [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860328</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxWanderlustxX/gifts">XxWanderlustxX</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Set ambiguously pre-W2<br/>Aindeoin = The Scoia’tael’s home base, built high into the trees in the forest.<br/>Ellander = nearest city to Iorveth’s forest (aside from Flotsam). The Blue Stripes are stationed here when they aren’t in the field.<br/>Rinn is a Scoia’tael spy first introduced in <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25657753/chapters/62288770">Know Thine Enemy Chapter 2</a>, originally created by XxWanderlustxX.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Iorveth had long since gotten used to the fact that Rinn’s reports would involve few, if any, words and that he would need to spend time analyzing her sketches to see what it was he was supposed to see. Any other commander would probably have a fit, but Iorveth actually rather enjoyed it. Rinn was a talented artist and he was glad she got to show off her skills, even if he was the only one who saw most of her reports.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had a lot of spies, but Rinn was special. Rinn was – not his protege because Iorveth wasn’t someone to look up to – but his best spy. She could get in and out of places that should be impossible without ever getting caught, her reports were incredibly detailed even though they came in picture form, and, perhaps most importantly, she had quite literally grown up under Iorveth’s command, which meant she understood what he needed and why.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, “grown up” implied that she was older than she was. Rinn was actually Iorveth’s youngest Scoia’tael and that had been the reason he’d initially wanted her far away from the them. He’d sent her to Vergen, the nearest nonhuman city where they sent all refugees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, after the fourth time Rinn somehow escaped her escort, found the Scoia’tael camp, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> broken into Iorveth’s office, he’d decided that if she was so determined, he may as well stop standing in her way and just prepare her as well as he could. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Iorveth had first found her, moments away from being slaughtered by dh’oine like her parents had been, Rinn had been entirely mute. Nowadays, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> speak, but often chose not to. Despite that, she managed to be one of his bossiest people, though she mostly directed said bossiness towards making sure Iorveth got enough sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes he even listened to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Rinn walked into his office – really just the highest structure in Aindeoin because Iorveth liked to be able to see the stars through the treetops – with a spyglass in hand, Iorveth was more than happy to set aside the supply list he’d been going over. She set the sketch on his desk and offered him the spyglass, but he took a moment to look it over with his naked eye first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The parchment was covered in a detailed charcoal rendering of the Blue Stripes Commandos standing around a map-covered table, Their Commander, Vernon Roche, was depicted with his mouth open, hands fidgeting with a knife he’d plunged into the table. His seven commandos were in various states of frowning seriously, arms crossed, and staring grimly at Roche.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth took the spyglass from Rinn and glanced over the outskirts of the sketch in case there was something he might miss. But, as he’d suspected, the important details were all on the maps on the table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Troop placements,” Iorveth gave Rinn an approving look as he carefully transcribed the map’s locations. “Send Ciaran in. We’ll need to adjust our strike plan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rinn nodded, signing him a quick reminder to stretch before she left to fetch his second in command. He let out a breathy chuckle, but he did get up and roll his shoulders.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rinn's report reveals a traitor amongst the Scoia'tael</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Iorveth had spies in a number of places, from Flotsam to Vizima. If he needed to, he could even access the informants of other Scoia’tael units. Nonetheless, there had been no spy Iorveth had been able to trust with keeping an eye on Vernon Roche until Rinn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not that he hadn’t tried. In the four years since Roche had taken over command of the Blue Stripes, every single spy he sent after them got caught, and it became the job no one wanted, even though it was the most important one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rinn not only hadn’t been caught, but since Iorveth had given her the assignment a year ago, she had managed to get inside places they’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> had access to before. The ability to break into the Temerian Army Base in Ellander was invaluable, not just because it was the Blue Stripes’ temporary base, but because the Temerian Army was a looming threat to every nonhuman.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the moment, King Foltest had left the extermination of the Scoia’tael in Roche’s hands, but Iorveth had no doubt that the king would eventually decide to send his army to round up every nonhuman left. That Rinn could get inside their base, get inside their command posts – it meant that Iorveth would have a warning before that happened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Rinn ran into his office three hours before her report was due, Iorveth figured the worst was upon them. The clear fury on her face did not make him feel any better, but when he looked down at the sketch she slapped onto his desk, he was faced with something worse than Foltest’s hate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sketch looked half complete, with Ellander’s garrison commander waiting in front of a flowering birch tree drawn in detail down weight of the coin purse in his hand while the person he offered it to was barely depicted as more than a stick figure. Nonetheless, the rough sketch of his face was clearly recognizable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ayluin!” Iorveth snarled the name of one of his lieutenants. One of his lieutenants who apparently gave information to the Temerian Army on the side. “Follow him, Rinn. I need to know where he goes and who he sees and what other secrets he’s selling.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rinn nodded and stomped out the door, anger written into every line of her body. Perhaps he would let her be the one to dispose of the traitor. She’d more than earned it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There had been a time he would have been disgusted with himself for staining such a young elf’s hands with blood. But that had been so many deaths ago, so many instances of holding those same young elves in his arms as they breathed their last.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, he wouldn’t spare Rinn’s – or anyone else’s – innocence. Instead, Iorveth’s promise to his troops was that he would prepare them, prepare them for the day armies came after them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t prepared them for a traitor in their midst. He hadn’t prepared </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a traitor, and the worst of it was that he couldn’t be certain Ayluin was working alone. Ayluin’s daughter Kylaetha could be innocent, or she could be in league with her father.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth grit his teeth and walked out of his office to find Ciaran. They would need to question the girl, determine where her loyalties lay. But after a thorough search of the base, it was clear that Kylaetha was nowhere in Aindeoin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something in Iorveth’s chest fractured. “Find her!” he ordered his men and Iorveth felt restless, felt the need to move and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fight, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so he donned his own gear and joined the search. If Kylaetha was in league with her father, then the best place for him to start was meeting place from Rinn’s sketch. Which meant he needed to head for the outskirts of Ellander.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was leaping across tree branches, running towards the city, when he heard the scream from somewhere up ahead. Iorveth mustered as much speed as he could manage, following the sounds of a fight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was when he almost bodily ran into Rinn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes widened and he managed to change his momentum at the last moment, but his foot slipped on the branch and he braced himself for a very unpleasant landing. Before he could crash into the next branch down, his arm was jerked out of its socket when strong, thin fingers wrapped around his wrist. For a moment, the flare of pain was all he could focus on, blocking out the continuing sounds of a fight from below. He looked up to see Rinn’s legs wrapped around the branch they’d been on, strain on her face as she held him up. Fortunately, he could almost touch the branch below him and he positioned himself to land on his feet before nodding to her. Rinn released him slowly, and immediately jumped down after him, even though he’d landed without trouble. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth clutched its shoulder, gritting his teeth against the way it throbbed in time with his heartbeat. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rinn’s fingers moved quickly through the signs, shaking almost imperceptibly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kylaetha must have found out. I was following Ayluin back to base when she attacked. Then you came.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have to get down there.” The fight was moving slowly away from them and he couldn’t let Ayluin get away. Unfortunately, a dislocated shoulder made climbing down difficult.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time they made it to the forest floor, Iorveth’s gums were bleeding from the force with which he grit his teeth. He swallowed back the iron taste and cocked his ear to figure out where the suddenly quiet fight had gone. Rinn tapped his wrist and pointed, and they took off after Ayluin and Kylaetha. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, they came upon Ayluin’s body laying at the base of a tree, dagger still in his heart. Some distance from him, Kythaela was sobbing into her hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ky–” he started and she looked at him only to burst into fresh tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I swear, I wasn’t with him! I would never betray the Scoia’tael!” Tears streamed down her cheeks, her face red and swollen, and not just from tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kythaela,” he approached her slowly, kneeling down in front of her. “I know.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She whimpered softly and launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He bit his lip against the pain as his shoulder was jarred, but he ran his free hand up and down her back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he said again. “It’s okay. I know.” She sobbed into his shoulder, clutching desperately at his armor and his heart seized with cold. Kylaetha was older than Rinn, but not by much. They were both too young for the horrors this world had forced on them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rinn approached them and gently touched Kylaetha’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were too young, but they were here anyway, and Iorveth swore that he would teach them to survive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they made their way back to Aindeoin and Rinn whisked Kylaetha away while Iorveth ordered some of his soldiers to go take care of Ayluin’s body. Then, head throbbing in time with his shoulder, he made his way to the medical building, slumping onto the first available cot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” Imadia asked, but Iorveth shook his head. He didn’t feel up to retelling the whole ordeal just yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He bit down on the root she pushed between his lips and managed to keep all noises down as his shoulder was shoved back into place. Then Imadia pressed something cold against his shoulder and the constant throbbing finally started to dull. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Drink this,” she ordered, offering him something that smelled of poppy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t have had this before?” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’ll put you to sleep,” she said, urging him to lay back in the bed. “Here, you can look at the nice drawing Rinn made for me.” She gestured at a sketch that was pinned up to the wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth squinted, but no, the sketch was definitely still of Roche. “Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s pretty,” she shrugged. “I never get to see him up close when we’re fighting, so Rinn was kind enough to sketch a portrait.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth scoffed, “‘s not so pretty up close, is he?” His words slurred as the world seemed to slow down around him, his focus narrowing until all that was left was the bed beneath him, Imadia’s rough palm against his brow, and the portrait of Roche staring down at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I beg to differ,” Imadia said softly. “I like him. He has nice eyes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does not,” Iorveth frowned. He’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> Roche’s eyes and they were as hard and cold as his own. There was nothing nice about either of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Imadia hummed. “Sleep, Iorveth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He listened to her, letting the poppy drag him under, and the last thing he was aware of was the way Roche’s charcoal-colored eyes seemed to follow him.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Part Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Rinn came bounding into Iorveth’s office practically vibrating with energy, a slightly manic grin on her face. She came to a stop in front of him, bouncing on her toes, and Iorveth raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was AWESOME! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her fingers moved so rapidly through the signs that Iorveth almost had trouble catching them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She fumbled at her belt and unrolled a sketch for him. Iorveth stared down at it in confusion and did not feel any closer to understanding what Rinn’s report was supposed to be. The sketch was rough, clearly done in a hurry with dark, jagged lines from pressing the charcoal to the parchment too hard. But the truly baffling thing was the depiction Rinn had made.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth squinted down at the caricature of Vernon Roche who appeared to have inhumanly large muscles and a cape inexplicably blowing in the wind. He was drawn very large on the parchment, standing in a power stance with his hands on his hips and overly broad shoulders squared. In the corner, there was a stick figure cowering away from him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth tilted his head from one side to the other, wondering if he was missing something obvious. “I...have no idea what this is supposed to be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rinn sighed as if heavily put upon. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s the Tired One. He’s a badass.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He blinked. The “Tired One” referred to Roche, though frankly, Iorveth didn’t understand how “tired” was the most significant characteristic you could notice about the Blue Stripes Commander. But more importantly, “okay, but why is he a superhero?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grinned at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tired One had a meeting with some nobleman. I’ll draw him later, but he had a very punchable face.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth raised an eyebrow. “Did Roche actually punch him or something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Even better! I’ve never seen a better verbal takedown! The noble was all </span>
  </em>
  <span>grr </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>argh. As she signed, Rinn made exaggerated snarls with her mouth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But Tired One was not having it. He threw down with the Punchable One and </span>
  </em>
  <span>destroyed</span>
  <em>
    <span> him. It was amazing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth scratched his forehead next to the bandana. “Okay. That’s...good to know, I guess? What were they fighting over?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Pretty One!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth frowned, going through his internal notes on her nicknames. “Who’s the Pretty One?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rinn held up a finger and dug through the scroll case across her chest. She found what she was looking for and unfurled the parchment on his desk. It contained a meticulous sketch of a young woman wearing the headcoverings the Priestesses of Melitele wore. Her face was finely detailed and something in her facial structure looked almost familiar to Iorveth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who is she?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Tired One calls her Adda. I like her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Adda – why did that name sound so familiar? And he would swear he knew her face, or one very similar to it. “Adda,” he drawled out consideringly. “Who is she to Roche?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Uncle Roche, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rinn shrugged. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t think they’re actually related though. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t have any siblings,” Iorveth said. Roche’s only blood family was his mother, and from all the information Iorveth had been able to gather, she had died some time ago. She was never mentioned in his records – Iorveth didn’t even know her name. Most of the information on Roche began </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> then-Prince Foltest had enrolled Roche in Temerian Army Basic Training. Even the records the Temerian Army itself kept. Iorveth had checked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But he </span>
  </em>
  <span>is</span>
  <em>
    <span> her uncle, or maybe her dad. He loves her. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rinn’s face was resolute, as if she expected Iorveth to disagree. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why were they fighting over her?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rinn bit her lip, looking guilty for the first time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t see the start of it. I only caught the end of him being a dick and then Tired One’s epic takedown. But I think it was something about the king?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth blinked. This woman was connected to Temeria’s king? He tilted his head. Now that Rinn mentioned him, this Adda </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> look a lot like the king. Something in the cut of the brow, the curve of her nose – she definitely shared Foltest’s facial structure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Adda...as in, Princess Adda? Heir to Temeria, Crown Princess, mysterious whitehaired maiden or whatever the gossiping merchant caravans call her?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rinn frowned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s a priestess, not a princess.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think she might be both. Maybe that’s the problem?” He shrugged. While information about the political situation in Temeria could be valuable, Iorveth largely didn’t care about Foltest’s dealings aside from when he hurt elves and nonhumans. There wasn’t a lot of information publicly known about the princess – she’d been introduced to the kingdom when she was already around a decade old, and theories about that missing time ranged from scandalous (the King’s sister ran away with a noble and hid the baby from the king) to the utterly absurd (the Queen Mother cursed her grandchild into a striga). The official story was that Princess Adda of Temeria, the King’s sister, had secretly eloped with a nobleman and had given birth to their child before her death. That child, Adda the White – supposedly named for her snow white hair – had been hidden from the King by her father, though Iorveth couldn’t actually remember which nobleman he was supposed to be. The King had killed the nobleman when he discovered the existence of his niece and introduced the world to the new Temerian Crown Princess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth had never heard anything connecting her to the Temple of Melitele. But then, he couldn’t actually remember hearing much about her at all after her introduction even though a decade had passed. Surely a Crown Princess should turn up in the news Iorveth paid informants for at least once or twice? He’d heard all about the meltdowns the spoiled prince of Aedirn had, and he hadn’t even been looking for the information. But Adda? Nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because she’d been hidden away in a Temple, perhaps? It was almost easier to believe it was a coincidence, that this Adda merely shared the same name. Surely that made more sense than the idea that the Crown Princess called Roche “uncle”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But now that he’d noticed, the resemblance to Foltest was unmistakable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth frowned. He’d always thought that Roche was the King’s attack dog, a soldier particularly good at following orders. Nothing in Roche’s records indicated the type of closeness that would lead to being an Uncle to the Princess.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why did Iorveth even care? So he’d missed something before; he knew it now, knew that Roche was much more intimate with the King than he’d expected. There was no reason for that to make something tense and wriggling claw its way up his throat. He didn’t care what Roche got up to or what kind of relationship he might have with an elf-killer. The only interest Iorveth had in Foltest was in hoping for his painful demise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, he found himself digging his fingers into the arms of his chair and asking Rinn in a voice that came out oddly tense, “learn what you can about her. If she is Temeria’s Princess, she may be valuable to us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rinn crossed her arms and stomped her foot, shaking her head roughly before releasing her arms to sign, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we are not kidnapping a priestess. Especially not </span>
  </em>
  <span>this</span>
  <em>
    <span> priestess. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her eyes darted away from Iorveth’s and she sucked her lower lip into her mouth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I like her. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s a dh’oine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So is he!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth blinked. “He...Roche? I hate Roche.” Weird how his voice went up at the end, almost like he was asking a question. Even weirder was how Rinn just </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked</span>
  </em>
  <span> at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We don’t touch her. Ever.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The look in Rinn’s eyes was uncompromising and Iorveth sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine. But I still need to know what you can find out about her. Having the Princess so close to our territory can’t be a good thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She scowled at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You just want to know who she is to the Tired One. I already told you – they’re family.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He squeezed the bridge of his nose, feeling the throbbing of a coming headache creeping across his skull. “Yes, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> are they family? Nothing we had on Roche pointed to that. So we’re missing something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At least admit it to yourself. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rinn shook her head at him, then snatched the parchment up from him desk, rerolled them, and tucked them away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admit what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turned and walked out the door without saying anything else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth groaned and dragged his hand down his face. What was there to admit to? Roche was his enemy. It was important for the Scoia’tael that Iorveth learn everything possible about his enemy, just in case it could ever be useful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was entirely normal to feel a weight in his belly like a stone had sunken in his stomach when he thought about Roche’s connection to Foltest. Foltest was a despicable creature, of course Iorveth hated him. And he hated Roche, obviously. But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> Roche, or so he had thought. Roche’s racism was still very obvious, but it wasn’t obvious the way Foltest’s was. Foltest wanted all nonhumans wiped out of existence, and he made no secret of it. But Roche – Roche probably thought he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> racist. It wasn’t true, of course, but his racism showed up more in his ignorance, rather than as violence. Roche would claim that the only reason the Scoia’tael were considered the Worst Terrorists in Temerian History was because of their tactics, not their race. But Iorveth’s reports from Rinn clearly showed that while Roche wouldn’t go out of his way to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop </span>
  </em>
  <span>a beating on the streets, but he wouldn’t start one, wouldn’t attack a random nonhuman. Iorveth wasn’t sure how much of a difference that made. Either way, no one helped the nonhuman.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one except the Scoia’tael, who offered a life away from the hatred of humans. He’d never understand why some nonhumans chose to live with dh’oine rather than join the Scoia’tael, but if they chose to stand alongside dh’oine, then they would share their fate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As would Roche. Roche would die at Iorveth’s hand, and no other’s. He looked forward to that day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth cleared his throat, pointedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> thinking about the opportunities he’d had and had let pass. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I found out more about The Pretty One, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rinn reported a week later, stomping into his office, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and I was right. The Tired One </span>
  </em>
  <span>is </span>
  <em>
    <span>her uncle.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iorveth pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t say you were wrong, Rinn. What I want to know is </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vernon Roche came to be uncle to the Princess of Temeria.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well there’s no records on that. I’ve checked. There’s nothing official at all about their connection, which probably means any evidence was either burned or never written down.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you said you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> find something out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rinn glared at him, then reached into the scroll case across her chest and unrolled a sketch a sketch of Roche and Adda hugging. Roche was in the midst of swinging her around in a circle and for some reason, that made something in Iorveth’s chest twinge. Roche’s face couldn’t be seen, but Adda’s face was bright with laughter and joy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rinn flicked his forehead to get his attention and then signed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I told you. They’re family. If you want to know more, </span>
  </em>
  <span>ask</span>
  <em>
    <span> him about it!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then she turned around and left, her sketch still in Iorveth’s hands. He blinked after her for a long moment and then looked back down at it. The woman – Princess Adda – looked so unlike he’d come to expect dh’oine royalty to look. Her emotions weren’t hidden in the lines of her face, but openly shared with her smile. Iorveth wondered if Roche had anything to do with that difference, if it was because Roche was her family that she wasn’t all polished like royalty usually was. He wondered if Roche had been as unprepared for the responsibility of caring for a child as Iorveth was when Rinn had attached herself to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the picture, Roche and Adda seemed to be doing better on the affection and communication part than Iorveth and Rinn were managing.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the last fully written chapter, but I promise that despite the sheer number of WiPs I have, I do come back to all of them.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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